Perhaps the most prevalent myth in this community is the myth of hearing parents (or deaf parents for that matter) who “know what is best” for their deaf children.

Nobody can “know” what the outcome of a given decision will be. Consider the simple act of striking a match. More often than not it will probably light. But sometimes it won’t. And sometimes it won’t even after seven tries in a row with seven different matches. If a match doesn’t light, you can try to explain the failure by taking into account the age of the matches, whether or not they were wet, or whether or not the day was windy. Your analysis might even be dead-on accurate!

All of this takes nothing away from the fact that you can’t know what will happen before the act itself. The fact that you’re a parent does not exempt you from this truth—no more than being the President of the United States would exempt you from this truth. You can predict and extrapolate and assume. You can hope and wish and expect. You can gather information and factor into your consideration as many variables as possible. In the end, the match will light or it won’t. You’ll “know” after you try and not before. And even after you do, you’ll still have no way of knowing whether or not the next one will light.

My aim here is not to argue about what’s morally right. My aim is to point out that if the President of the United States says “I know this is going to work!” and his aide replies “Sir, I wouldn’t bet the budget on that,” what this usually means is that sometimes things don’t work the way that they’re supposed to. It doesn’t necessarily mean that the aide obviously now hates the President of the United States. It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a traitor, an extremist, or a rabble-rousing troublemaker who should be shot for treason.

But that’s not the way much of the world thinks, and it’s not the way many in this community think. Parents are increasingly becoming politically untouchable, exempt from any and all criticism; solely by virtue of the fact that they are parents. If they make a mistake, they have the right to make that mistake, no matter what. It’s not appropriate for you to say otherwise. It’s not appropriate for you to even question their decisions, let alone challenge them. This is their kid and not yours. It’s their decision in the end.

These kinds of responses might seem empathic, the first line of defense for embattled parents, but they are not. They are responses of extremism, and they can be incredibly destructive. The more untouchable something becomes—be that something an individual, a topic, a group, or an ideology—the less likely it becomes that people will chance posing a question or challenge at all. The punishment for doing so is too severe. Why risk it? Thus we set up parents who can’t possibly “know” to become parents who do, not because they actually know anything, but because so many others are too scared to publicly state otherwise.

This is the exact same type of mentality that turned everyone who supported the U.F.G. protest at Gallaudet into a “Deaf Absolutist,” with no individual range of beliefs or tolerances whatsoever (you can check many of the letters printed the editorial section of the Washington Post for “proof”). Meanwhile, everyone who did not support the protest was “not deaf enough;” also with no range of individual beliefs or tolerances. And everyone who challenges a given parent’s decision is obviously a rude, mean jerk who has no kids of his own—otherwise he’d know how hard it is. . .

When did it become such a crime to label and categorize things accurately? Parents can’t know, but they can guess. The word “guess” might not be as absolute or as all-powerful as the word “know,” but is that so bad? Precious little that is human is absolute. When I have a kid I’m pretty sure that I’m going to end up guessing at what’s best for him all of the time. If someone says “Dude, are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” I’m simply going to reply “Well I sure as hell hope so!” Exactly how will that basic game plan make me a bad parent? I don’t think it’s wrong to admit you’re scared when you’re scared, or that you’re fallible, or that you sometimes second-guess your decisions. I think you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone on this planet who doesn’t feel those things at times. I would resent people who get up in my face and assume that I’m lazy or blind when the truth is that I exhaustively pored over all of the research I could find. But if someone cared enough about how my kid turned out to hold protests and and pass out leaflettes in order to make sure that I received information I might have missed or discounted the first time around, a part of me would be thankful that my kid had so many people looking out for him. Even if I didn’t agree with that information.

While we’re on the subject of labeling and categorizing things accurately, here is a new question: Why commit what is often the logical fallacy of saying “all” when what’s much more defensible is “most” or “some” or “many?” It’s an absolute statement to say that “The parents have the final say in the end,” or even that “Parents should have the final say in the end.” Really? All parents? I have met many over the course of my career. And I thought many were wonderful. They left me in complete awe of the amount of committment they felt for their children. This applies to parents who went both the oral route and the ASL one. I perhaps vehemently disagreed with some (or even many) of their decisions, but that alone never caused me to doubt their love.

On the other hand I have also met parents who I thought were horrifying. I know of parents who are serving time in prison. I knew parents who weren’t serving time in prison, yet I still thought they were horrifying. I knew parents who are no longer allowed to even see their children. I’ve met parents whom I’m pretty sure even other parents would hesitate to leave a deaf child alone with.

Where does this admission leave us? Why should it reduce the discussion to a case of comparing apples and oranges? Why should it make me the bad guy or invalidate my neutrality or separate me from reality? The only fact that’s absolute in the end is the fact that somebody will have to make decisions concerning a deaf child, or else nobody will. It doesn’t necessarily have to be the biological parents, or the guardians, or the foster parents, or the adoptive parents. Sometimes a kid goes through all of these before he’s placed in an environment that’s safe and nurturing, and it’s entirely possible that he’ll rarely be placed in an environment he considers to be safe or nurturing. Sometimes the odds are quite high that he doesn’t have anyone who is really looking out for him or who gives a damn about him, even when he’s still living with his actual, biological parents!

I can’t get behind blind idealism—and that’s what true absolutism is. It smells too much like blind denial. When you say “all” or even imply it, make sure you mean it. Make sure you know who and what you’re talking about. If you say “all,” make sure you’re ready to attack or defend a whole range of real, live individuals. Their distinctions tend to blur out of focus when your eyes are busy trying to see everyone at once.

But “everyone at once” is the very type of label that makes a group absolute. And that’s exactly what their distinctions separate them from.


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